


It Could Be

by keraunoscopia



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Feelings, Light Angst, New Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 06:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16655659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keraunoscopia/pseuds/keraunoscopia
Summary: When the shift ends, she doesn’t think about where she’s going, doesn’t say goodbye to the team, just climbs in her car and starts driving. Autopilot should take her home, the apartment she’s lived in for years, the first place that’s truly been her own. But when she shifts into park and turns off the ignition, she finally realizes that she hasn’t driven home.They don’t do this.Or at least, they haven’t yet.





	It Could Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is super short, but there's a tragic lack of Vicley/Hughley content so I needed to get _something_ out there. Let me know what y'all think! Hopefully there'll be more (longer) works to come.

The flames have long since been drowned out by the steady torrent of water from the trucks, but they still lick white hot at the edges of Vic’s vision. She stands there, hands steady on the hose the way she’s been trained, jaw clenched, shoulders set. Faintly, in the back of her mind, she can hear Travis’s voice, telling her that it’s okay to fall back, that the fire’s out, but it doesn’t register. 

She had thought she’d gotten over this. 

Travis’s hands are on hers, pulling her back, and she shuts the valve, shakes off the questions and walks back to the truck. Maybe she should say something to him, or Maya who’s also trying to talk to her, or Gibson, but she can’t quite make out what they’re saying, and it doesn’t matter anyway because her thoughts just don’t seem to manifest coherently enough to be words. 

She’s silent, the whole ride back to the station, and for the rest of the shift. She puts her gear back in her locker, showers the soot and grime out of her hair, off of her skin, and then she cleans, the way that Sullivan wants them to. And she ignores the questions, the worry, if you could call it that. But really ignore suggests that its a conscious decision and Vic might be awake, but she doesn’t quite feel conscious. It feels like she’s stuck in the sickening thickness of molasses, a dream she knows she’s dreaming but can’t quite wake up from, the sort of dream that’s not quite a nightmare but still simmers anxiety in the pit of her stomach. 

When the shift ends, she doesn’t think about where she’s going, doesn’t say goodbye to the team, just climbs in her car and starts driving. Autopilot should take her home, the apartment she’s lived in for years, the first place that’s truly been her own. But when she shifts into park and turns off the ignition, she finally realizes that she hasn’t driven home. 

They don’t do this. 

Or at least, they haven’t yet. Everything has been light, and fun, and physical. And Vic isn’t sure what any of it means, because they’ve put no labels, and no boundaries on anything. But she’s here, and it’s too late to turn back, and even though her brain is tempted to hit the breaks, her body doesn’t seem to listen, because she’s climbing out of the car and knocking on the front door, and maybe she should have called first, because they haven’t done this either, haven’t showed up unannounced at each other’s places, but it’s too late for that too. 

Lucas opens the door, looking more casual than Vic has ever seen him, a pair of jeans, a hoodie. He looks confused, brows knitted together and Vic can’t blame him, because she’s not really sure why she’s here either. But before he can ask, and before she can explain, she’s crying, tears searing the skin on her cheeks. 

Lucas looks like he might have been about to say something, but the words fall deaf on his tongue, and he just pulls her inside, shutting the door behind her, pulling her into a hug. Its warm, and comforting, the sort of safety Vic can’t even remember feeling before, but somehow it just makes her cry harder, heavy, heaving sobs that wrack her body, trembling in his grip. 

He doesn’t say anything, just settles a hand on the back of her head, her face pressed against his shoulder, and faintly, Vic is aware that she’s staining his hoodie, that she should pull away, apologize, and go home. That this isn’t what they do. They’re not dating, they don’t talk about their feelings, save those few times she’s blown up at him, unable to keep her mouth shut. But that’s not really the same, because he’s the chief, and she’s… Vic. And that has to come to some sort of inevitable conclusion. She’s never bothered to think about what they might become, because she’s just always assumed it would end, that it would be fun and happy and light until it was over, and that then they’d just move on. 

But somehow, she’s ended up here, sobbing into his arms for no apparent reason, and he murmurs soothingly in her ear, a heavy hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. “Victoria,” he sighs softly as her sobs subside, and she relaxes a little against his chest, “what’s wrong?”

Vic just pulls away, wipes her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and shakes her head, “nothing, sorry. I just…” she doesn’t have an explanation, not one on the tip of her tongue, and suddenly her cheeks burn with embarrassment, finally appreciating the situation, that she’d showed up unannounced just to cry. “I shouldn’t have, I know we don’t…” she sort of stumbles over her words, an embarrassed smile on her face even though her eyes are still wet with tears. “I’m just gonna go…” she finally decides definitively, thumbs pointed over her shoulders. 

Lucas smiles softly, that sort of gentle affection that makes her knees weak and her heart pound, and she realizes, finally that maybe it’s more than what she thought it was, that maybe he’s always thought that it was more than what she thought it was. “You don’t have to,” he says, gentle but firm. He’s not telling her she has to stay, he wouldn’t do that. And he’s not asking her to stay, but he wants her to, even if he hasn’t said it in so many words, and just that has Vic’s stomach tied in knots. 

“A kid died today,” she says without context. The smile fades from Lucas’ face, and he lifts his chin just ever so slightly, that sort of knowing look. He gets it, understands maybe better than anyone, so he doesn’t ask, doesn’t have to. “We didn’t get there in time. I mean it wasn’t our response time, wasn’t anything we could have done. The call didn’t come in soon enough and that sucks, because how are we supposed to save people if we don’t know they need to be saved? But he was nine. Nine years old. His parents didn’t even know he was in there because he was supposed to be at a friend’s house. They think he walked home. And now he’s dead. And there’s nothing I can do about it” Everything spews out at once, and she talks so fast she’s not even sure that Lucas can keep up, but its been there, every word, on the tip of her tongue all day, just not ready to come out. She can feel the tears again, welling in her eyes, threatening to fall.  


Lucas is quite for a moment, like he’s not sure what to say to her, and maybe he’s not, but really, Vic knows there’s nothing he could say that could make it any better, no amount of words could soothe the ache in her chest. So he doesn’t try, just steps forward again, closes the distance she’d put between them, and pulls her into a hug, firm and cathartic, and he presses his lips to her temple, the rough prickle of his beard against her skin. The tension melts out of her, shoulders slumping forward, and her knees might have buckled if he didn’t have such a tight hold on her. 

“Will you spend the night?” He asks in a hushed whisper, lips brushing over her skin with each articulation. 

“You want me to?” Vic asks before she can even think to censor herself, the disbelief evident in her voice. 

“Yes,” he nods. 

It isn’t what they do. Or, at least, it hasn’t been. But maybe it could be.


End file.
